


The "B-Word"

by DaisytheDoodleDog



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Just some adorable cuteness, No Angst, Season/Series 04, Tired Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24666307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisytheDoodleDog/pseuds/DaisytheDoodleDog
Summary: Emma has been going on for nearly a week without any sleep, fearing the guilt and nightmares that come in her dreams. Her family is worried, but she's avoiding them, but she can't avoid the observant pirate and she certainly can't ignore a good bottle of rum.Just a super cute fluffy story that came to mind while I'm obsessing over the show. Takes place during season 4 after Rumple is banished from the town, in between the snow queen and whole... author issue.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 69





	The "B-Word"

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! Welcome to my first OUAT fanfic! I've been writing fanfiction for several years, so this isn't new to me, but Captain Swan has recently taken over my life after rewatching the show in this quarantine era. For the record I have not written a straight fanfic in two years, Supernatural's ship, Destiel has been my biggest obsession, but I do enjoy a good cannon couple, because shipping destiel is an emotionally exhausting process.
> 
> This story is a little cliche but we could all use a little bit of stability and predictability in our lives right now. Normally my stories are a longer and much more metaphorical, but like I said, this is my first OUAT fic. Enjoy!
> 
> Anywhere here's a cute fluffy story for ya! Comments make my day!

Emma lied to her dad when she said she had slept that night. He made a subtle comment about the tired stare from her glazed over eyes. She told him she had allergies and whether he bought it or not, she really didn’t care. Instead she chugged back a third coffee, and turned her desk lamp on and off with her powers, even the magic flowing through her exhausted to the point of little sparks meekly pulsing through her hand.

It wasn’t long before David made another comment, and this time she wasn’t so smooth about playing it off.

“I’m fine, David! Really.” She jumped on his words a little too fast, a clear sign of suspicion. She faltered, huffing out a quick apology for snapping. Emma leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for the brief moment that saved her from passing out. David finally backed off, leaving her another cup of coffee and jumping to the first call of another drunk man breaking into the library. It was undoubtedly Will, and wouldn’t be hard to catch, but David wasn’t about to let his daughter out on the job when she looked like she was just awoken by the sleeping curse.

Emma wasn’t sure how many days she had been on without sleep. Maybe 6 or 7, either way she had broken her own personal record. But the apartment was getting too cramped with everyone in it and sleep just seemed to disappear from her. Instead she would spend the nights researching or at the sheriff stations or wandering the docks, thinking. Looming dangers and endless cycles of pain and loss had caught up with her and what had started as a couple nights of endless, racing thoughts, now became nights filled with guilt whenever she tried to catch a few hours of sleep. It had been a full three months since she had a real night sleep, but going completely sleepless where her eyes were wide open from dusk to dawn had become almost a challenge to herself. If she lost this challenge, then the nightmares would have pulled her down a rabbit hole, but if she kept going, forcing herself to stay awake for the long empty nights, then maybe she could escape it all. How many days could she go without granting herself a night of sleep? It seemed to get easier and harder the longer she went.

When the clock struck five pm, and the cooler nights getting darker much faster, Emma knew she was in for another long and horrible night. 

“Emma, Granny’s is that way.” Mary Margret called, pushing Neal’s stroller down the sidewalk to greet her.

“I know- Oh, we’re all eating at Granny’s tonight. I forgot.” Mary Margret sent her a warm, patient smile.

“That’s okay. Are you feeling alright? You don’t look so good.” Emma rolled her eyes and strolled down the road with her mother towards the dinner.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.” Mary Margret turned to her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking her head softly.

“Well of course I have to worry. I’m your mother.” Emma sent her a quick half smile that didn’t hold any meaning outside of the tired expression that held too strong of a grip. Emma tugged open the door to the dinner, David and Henry were already sitting at a booth, laughing and poking fun at each other while they waited.

“There you are!” David smiled brightly, kissing his wife and moving over so that she could sit down. Henry scooched in to make room for Emma who almost missed the seat as she sat down. Even the slightest of stumbles were rare for her, but she shrugged it off and called for her sixth coffee of the day.

“Mom, you good?” Henry whispered, as if he was telling a secret, or protecting one of Emma’s. She gave her son a quick nod, but left him unconvinced. Henry was a smart kid, and he knew his mother better than anyone… well maybe except for Hook, but even that was close. The Charmings chatted while they waited for their food, and when food came, they were only quiet as they scarfed it down, but Emma barely muttered a word. David had sent her a series of worried looks, all of which she ignored. By the time they paid the bill and left the warmth and light of the dinner, Emma had a migraine like no other.

“You know, you guys go home. I’m going to go do some paperwork at the station, I’m a bit behind.” Henry began to protest, but Mary Margret pulled him by the shoulders, heading back to the apartment.

“Emma, you’re going to run yourself into the ground. You need to go home and get some rest.”

“Dad, I’m  _ fine _ . Seriously, I just wish everyone would get off my case!” Emma hadn’t meant to snap, but she was just so tired. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, and the whole world seemed to sway beneath her feet. But if she slept, the nightmares would come. If she slept, the guilt would overpower her. If she slept, she would waste precious time that she could be using to prepare for the next lurking evil. She whipped around, leaving her father standing in the street, confused and shocked as she hurried off to the docks to think.

…

When she looked at her phone for the first time in hours the bright 11:45 made her feel queasy. Still so much of the night was left. She left her spot on the bench, wandering down the back roads of town, as not to be seen by the townspeople who would stop fer for a chat. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, nor did she think she could stand still for very long without passing out. She kept walking with no destination until she found herself on the quaint pathway to the inn. It was cozy and warm and it called to her, but she tore herself away from it. She turned back down the path she came from and wrapped herself up in her jacket, the cold air biting at her skin.

“Swan.” Emma stopped in her tracks, knowing the one person who called her that. She refused to look at him, and should have kept walking, but something stopped her. She felt the strong grip of a sailors hand wrap around her wrist, tugging her around to face him.

“Hook- I really-”

“What are you doing out here so late?” Emma scoffed and pulled away from him, mainly because he was warm and his eyes were soft and welcoming and she couldn’t let herself have it. 

“I’m allowed to go for a walk you know.” She snarked back, but the exhaustion of her voice slipped out into a subtle slur. Killian nodded his head, reaching out taking her hand in his.

“Aye, I know. Can I join you?”

“No. I… I’d rather be alone.” Killian stepped in front of her, still holding her hand. 

“Emma, love, why are you doing this to yourself?” Emma didn’t look at him, but he got the message. “You take care of everyone in this town, but you still carry a shit ton of guilt. For once, let me take care of you.” Before she could protest, Killian had spun her around and was already pushing her to the front porch of the inn, using his hook to fish around his pockets for his room key. 

“Hook-”

“Don’t waste your breath Swan, you may be stubborn, but you forget that I’m as well. You look-”

“Before you say I look horrible-” 

“You’re always beautiful Emma, I was going to say that you look like you could use some rum that’ll knock you out in a matter of an hour.” Emma chuckled and gave a stiff nod. Killian knew her well. He took her up to his room, and while it was not the decor of the Jolly Roger that he missed so much, it would have to do for now. He’d trade the Jolly Roger decor for the ancient floral design of the inn any day if it meant Emma was there before him. He opened the door for her -ever the gentlemen- and had her sit at the edge of the bed. 

“For a pirate, you sure are a gentleman.” Emma joked, knowing well that the pirate stereotype would get under his skin, but by now the two bickered their stereotypes back and forth at each other pushing their buttons. Killian smiled as he rooted his bags for his flask with the  _ good  _ rum. The kind he would only drink if he had killed the crocodile or married someone. As if  _ that  _ would happen. Although when the thought came to mind he couldn’t help but steal a glance at Emma. Yes, he was in love with her, and yes, maybe one day, he wouldn’t mind marrying her. But this was now, and now was certainly not the time.

“I’m a pirate who pillages, destroys, and kills,  _ but _ I still open doors for beautiful women. I am generally a horrible person, but I do have some decency in me.” He tosses her the flask, which she misses. Emma must’ve been really off her game. Killian can’t help but laugh a little, earning himself a glare from her, but he picks the flask off the ground and untwists the cap for her. He sits next to her, adjusting the fitting of his hook as she took a swig of the rum.

“Damn that is good rum.” He smiled softly at her as she handed him the flask. He sat it in his lap, not wanting the chance of a drink to make him miss a moment with her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing softly and letting her eyes close. She didn’t rest for long, maybe for a minute or two, before she forced herself up. Without saying a word, she shrugged on her jacket and sent a quick appreciative smile to Killian.

“I… I should head home, or maybe the station, or-”

“Or you could stay the night.”

“Killian, I don’t have the energy for-”

“I’m not saying  _ stay the night _ , I’m saying that you haven’t slept and clearly need to. But I understand why you aren’t. I want to help, love.” Emma’s stoic expression softened as she let her shoulders fall.

“I don’t want to drag you into this.”

“You’re not. I’m dragging myself into this because I’m your boyfriend and this is what I want to do. I want you to be yourself, and if there’s something I can do, then you bloody believe that I will do whatever it takes.” Emma took in his words and swallowed hard. He had never used the “b word” before, not that Emma was keeping track. She wasn’t some middle schooler with her first boyfriend, but he had never referred to himself as that. And Emma never thought of herself as his girlfriend, she always just referred… Well what were they? She never really questioned it before, never really wanted to put a label on something she thought would be gone before she ever got a chance to have it. Labels meant that she claimed something, had a meaning, and years of a runaway orphan taught her it was dangerous to put a label on something. But Killian had done it for her. 

She must’ve been thinking about this for longer than a mere second, because Killian furrowed his brows and his eyes narrowing with concern. He stood and approached her like she was a wild animal, never wanting her to startle. He had a patience as large as the sea when it came to most things, but especially her.

“Are you okay love?” Emma opened and closed her mouth. If she wasn’t so exhausted, maybe she would have bolted. But at the same screaming desire to get out, also was being fought by the slightest chance that she might be happy. The slightest chance that maybe she would stay the night, and maybe she would sleep. But then again the nightmares came to mind and fear often overpowered everything. 

But then Killian closed the space between them, soft and slow, wanting her to have control of every movement he made. He took her hand in his, and for a second a brief expression of anger crossed through his eyes as he could hold her other hand with his hook. His nose twitched with rage, but tried to suppress it from view. But of course, Emma had always been good at reading people and slowly wrapped her fingers around the hook. She never did have a problem with the hook, never did she ever think it was strange or annoying. The only thing she didn’t like about the hook was that Killian could be so insecure about it. He would have  _ never  _ admitted to such a thing, but she could the way he looked at it with such disgust, or how he never tried to touch her with it, as if it was poison.

She pressed her forehead to his and nodded softly. She closed her eyes and swayed on her feet, careful not to let herself fall too far into a daze to make her lose balance. But even when she did stumble, Killian’s arms caught her, just like he always would.

“Swan? You should rest.” She was too tired for an argument, even if the stubborn side of her twisted with annoyance of letting the pirate win the battle. Killian gently nudged her towards the bed, helping her shrug out of her jacket, while she kicked off her shoes. Neither of them said a word as they crawled into bed, Killian tossing the mountains of blankets over her. He gazed at her, mesmerized by the details in her face, from the grouping of freckles, to snow like complexion (he wondered where she got that from), the way her green eyes were like staring into the endless jungles of neverland, happily getting lost among the depths of her flora eyes. He removed his hook, tossing it to the bedside table, and hit his arm in his sleeve. Emma gently ran her hand down his arm until it reached the place where his hand should have been. She brushed her thumb across the stump and smiled softly. 

“You said the b-word.” She whispered to him a slight chuckle in her voice. Killian’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with confusion and fear.

“I didn’t call you a bitch!” He shot back frantically, rewinding the whole conversation in his head in search of a moment that he called her such a thing. Emma turned over with a smile and shook her head, gently pushing him back into the mattress.

“No, I mean you said, boyfriend.” Killian exhaled with relief, before coming to realize that he had indeed said boyfriend. He cleared his throat, glancing up at her green eyes.

“Was I not supposed to?” He questioned himself, but Emma’s smile only lengthened across her face as she kissed him.

“Well I mean… I am your girlfriend.” Something about acknowledging herself as a girlfriend seemed strange, but when Killian’s smile showed off his perfect teeth and illuminated his eyes like the flickering candle dancing in the golden rim of his irises, it felt… right. Emma tucked herself deeper under the blankets and exhaled, quickly drifting off to Killian’s gentle breath and his occasional hums of contentedness.

It turned out, Emma didn’t wake from the plaguing nightmares that night, nor did she force herself up out of bed and pry her own eyes open. Turned out, it was the best sleep Emma had had in ages.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Until next time,
> 
> -Daisy


End file.
